Mother of Learning. Arc 3 Incomplete

It always happened — every time he came home, Kirielle would raid his school supplies. Putting aside the ethical problems inherent in breaking into your brother’s room in order to steal his things, what on earth was she doing with all those pencils and erasers? This time he specifically bought extras with his sister in mind, but it still wasn’t enough — he couldn’t find a single eraser in his drawer, and he bought a whole packet of them before coming home. Why Kirielle couldn’t simply ask Mother to buy her some books and pens of her own was never really clear to Zorian. She was the youngest, and the only daughter, so Mother was always happy to spoil her — the dolls she talked Mother into buying her were five times more expensive than a couple of books and a stack of pencils.

In any case, while Zorian had no delusions about ever seeing his writing supplies again, he really needed those textbooks. With that in mind, he marched off to his sister’s room, ignoring the ‘Keep out!’ warning on the door, and quickly found his missing books in their usual location — cunningly hidden under the bed, behind several conveniently placed stuffed animals.

His packing done, he went downstairs to eat something and see what Mother wanted from him.

Though his family thought he simply liked to sleep in, Zorian actually had a reason for being a late riser. It meant he could eat his food in peace, as everyone else had already had their breakfast by then. Few things annoyed him more than someone trying to strike up a conversation while he was eating, and that was precisely the time when the rest of his family was most talkative. Unfortunately, Mother wasn’t willing to wait for him today, and immediately descended upon him when she saw him coming down. He didn’t even finish his descent down the stairs and she had already found something about him she didn’t like.

«You don’t really intend to go out looking like that, do you?» she asked.

«What’s wrong with this?» asked Zorian. He was wearing a plain brown outfit, little different from the ones other boys wore when they were going into the city. It seemed just fine to him.

«You can’t go out looking like that,» his mother said with a long-suffering sigh. «What do you think people will say when they see you wearing that?»

«Nothing?» Zorian tried.

«Zorian, don’t be so difficult,» she snapped at him. «Our family is one of the pillars of this town. We’re under scrutiny every time we leave the house. I know you don’t care about such things, but appearances are important to a lot of people. You need to realize you’re not an island, and you can’t decide things as if you were alone in the world. You are a member of this family, and your actions inevitably reflect on our reputation. I will not let you embarrass me by looking like a common factory worker. Go back to your room and put on some proper attire.»

Zorian restrained himself from rolling his eyes just long enough to turn his back on her. Maybe her guilt trip would have been more effective if this was the first time she tried it on him. Still, it wasn’t worth the argument, so he changed into a pricier set of clothes. It was totally excessive, considering he’d be spending the whole day in the train, but his mother nodded approvingly when she saw him coming down the stairs. She had him turn and pose like a show animal for a while before pronouncing him ‘fairly decent’. He went to the kitchen and, to his annoyance, Mother followed after him. No eating in peace today, it seemed.

Father was thankfully on one of his ‘business trips’, so he wouldn’t have to deal with him today.

He entered the kitchen and frowned when he saw a bowl of porridge already waiting for him on the table. Usually he made his own breakfast, and he liked it that way, but he knew his mother never accepted that. This was her idea of a peace gesture, which meant she was going to ask something of him he wouldn’t like.

«I figured I’d prepare something for you today, and I know you’ve always liked porridge,» she said. Zorian refrained from mentioning he hadn’t liked it since he was about eight. «You slept longer than I thought you would, though. It’s gone cold while I’ve waited for you.»

Zorian rolled his eyes and cast a slightly modified ‘heat water’ spell on the porridge, which was instantly returned to a pleasant temperature.